


Crosses To Bear

by Andraste



Category: Trigun
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-29
Updated: 2001-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:51:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andraste/pseuds/Andraste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So tell me, Mr. Stampede, if you think I'm a poor excuse for a priest, what am I doing wrong?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crosses To Bear

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the gap between Season Eighteen and Season Nineteen. Written for the Holiday Fanfiction Project 2001, this is dedicated to Yasmin for getting me hooked on the series in the first place.

In part, Vash blamed the alcohol still clouding his brain for the initial confusion. After all, he'd only just rolled out of bed, abandoned his attempt at meditation even faster than usual, foregone the training altogether, and wandered off to look for a shower. Or possibly breakfast. Or possibly Nicholas D. Wolfwood. He wanted to find all three before it got too hot to move, or someone ruined his day by trying to kill him.

He found food and water easily enough, but after half an hour of wandering around the tiny town he was beginning to think that his travelling companion had vanished into the dawn without warning. Eventually, Vash found Wolfwood in a place so obvious and so surprising that he didn't look there until last.

The moment that Vash entered the church he was sorry - Nick's cross was propped up against the wall, the candles on the altar had been lit, and the wayward priest had his head bent in silent prayer. He was dappled by the coloured light that slanted in through the stained glass windows, more at peace than the human typhoon had ever seen him. Vash took a hasty step backwards, but his footsteps had broken the silence. Wolfwood looked up and turned his head. "Sorry for interrupting ..." Vash said, uselessly.

"Not a problem," said Nick. "I was already down to praying for those cute girls who served us beer last night, and they didn't look like they needed any help from me."

Vash strolled down to the front of the tiny chapel and settled into the pew behind Nick, leaning over to rest his arms on the back of the seat. It was dusty, like the floor, and he got the impression that the building didn't see much use or many brooms. "You don't do a lot of that."

Wolfwood grinned. "Mostly when you see me praying, someone's shooting at us. I don't blame you for not noticing."

"Not just the praying - the whole priest thing." Having caught Wolfwood in the act, Vash wasn't ready to pass up the chance to find out what kind of churchman Wolfwood _really_ was at last.

"I always thought the big cross I carry around was a dead give away." He extracted a cigarette from his pocket and lit up, inhaling deeply in a way that suggested he hadn't had a nicotine fix for as long as ten minutes.

"You know that's not what I meant."

Wolfwood conceded gracefully, the expression on his face turning serious. "So tell me, Mr. Stampede, if you think I'm a poor excuse for a priest, what am I doing wrong?"

Vash shrugged. "I wouldn't say wrong, exactly. I know that you're a good man." Or, he knew that Wolfwood _tried_ to be a good man. His fine intentions were worth something, at least in Vash's book.

"There's a difference between being a good priest and being a good man?"

"I'm no expert on organised religion, but I'm pretty sure there are rules about drinking and sex and guns. Maybe cigarettes, too."

Wolfwood took a long, defiant drag and blew the smoke out before replying. "You think God picks his team based on that stuff?"

Vash shrugged. "That's not the kind of morality I usually think about."

"Exactly. You worry about the big things, right?" He turned around completely, kneeling on the pew. "The life and death issues. _That's_ what separates the lost lambs from the flock."

Vash had serious trouble imagining Nicholas as anything other than a wolf, but for once he managed to hold his tongue. "So when you found your way, God didn't ask you to quit smoking?"

"I'm just a fallible mortal, but I think that raising money to feed the children in an orphanage is more important than how much I drink."

Vash nodded, and changed tack. "So why go to church today?"

"Tomorrow is Christmas day, as far as I can make out. Thought I should drop in and wish old JC a happy birthday. Just to pay my respects." He smiled, and nodded towards his cross. "If you think dragging it around all the time is a bitch, imagine hauling it on your back through the hot sun just so someone could nail you to it at the end of the road."

Vash shuddered, although the chapel for all is shabbiness had an aura of peace that he'd missed for a long time. "I think I have a fair idea."

"He was a person who went through a lot of pain, suffering and sacrifice so that other people wouldn't have to." His hand on the pew brushed Vash's own, almost accidentally. "I'm not surprised that you get that."

"He saved everyone," said Vash. Rem had explained that part to him, a long time ago, and like all her words it was burnt into his brain.

"By seeing what had to be done, and doing it, even when he didn't want to."

Vash grinned. "Exactly. I knew you'd see my point eventually."

Nick shook his head, and sighed. "You missed mine. You think he wanted to let someone drive nails through his tendons? You think that was his idea of a good time? It had to be done, that's all."

"I'm not as pragmatic as you, Wolfwood." There was neither challenge nor apology Vash's tone.

"Then it's just as well that someone sent me to watch over you."

Vash drew back. This was getting uncomfortably close to 'don't ask, don't tell' territory. "So if it's his birthday tomorrow, why does everyone else get presents?"

Nick smiled. "He's a generous guy - enjoys seeing everyone else happy." He stood up and stretched. "Speaking of which, it's after noon now. Would you like to join me in a Christmas drink?"

Vash's stomach lurched a little at the thought of more alcohol so soon after the previous evening's carousing. Maybe he just needed a drink to settle it. "Well, if it makes the birthday boy happy ..."

They left the chapel for the more familiar surroundings of the bar, but all night - even during the part where he was throwing up on Wolfwood's shoes - Vash felt a sense of happiness and security that he hadn't experienced in an age. Lying flat on his back in the middle of the street some time after three, listening to Nick singing a carol in a surprisingly good voice, he decided that it must be Christmas spirit. Or perhaps just the presence of a good friend, a bottle of whiskey and the knowledge that this was one more day that no-one had managed to nail him down.


End file.
